


Giving Thanks on Thursday

by LizaCameron



Series: Seven Days Series [7]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Holiday, Liza's Josh/Donna Seven Days Series, Romance, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-09
Updated: 2004-12-09
Packaged: 2019-05-30 13:38:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15097772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizaCameron/pseuds/LizaCameron
Summary: Josh, Donna, Thanksgiving and Friends.





	Giving Thanks on Thursday

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

 

 

 

**Giving Thanks on Thursday**

**by: Liza C.**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** AU, Humor, Romance  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything; this is for fun and no money. Beta'ed by Kim.  
**Summary:** Josh, Donna, Thanksgiving and Friends.  
**Author's Note:** Seven Days One Fall Series #007

"Are you moving in?" When I open the door, she's standing there with what must be half of her apartment in tow. Not that I would necessarily have a problem with her moving in, you understand. It would certainly make the whole me-telling-her-how-I-feel thing a much simpler prospect. Did I mention I'm nervous about that? Yeah, I am.

"Very funny. It's all stuff we need for dinner. Take this." She shoves some cylindrical-appliance-looking contraption in my hands, picks up a box from the floor, and walks past me through the door.

"What is it?"

"It's a crock pot," she states as she begins to divest herself of the myriad of belongings that she's carted over to my house this morning.

"Are we making crock?"

Hey, that was funny. But she doesn't even react, let alone laugh. I think I should get points, or at least a courtesy smile, for being able to crack a joke at 6:30 in the morning. You heard me; she's here at SIX - THIRTY in the morning. On our day off! Not that I would complain that she was here at 6:30, had she, say, spent the night... with me. And, yes, I suggested it last night and, yes, she just blew the suggestion off while explaining that cooking Thanksgiving is pretty much an all-day thing. I did not know that. All those years, I didn't realize that my mom was up cooking at the crack of dawn while I was sleeping in. I definitely owe my mom a phone call today. But right now my attention is captured by something else.

"You need an overnight bag for dinner?" I ask, eyeing her things suspiciously, most of which are now lying scattered around my front door.

"No, I needed an overnight bag for later," she answers as she kicks off her snow-covered boots and hangs up her coat. As I watch her, I note with a slight tugging sensation in my chest that even at 6:30 in the morning, with no make-up and her hair in a ponytail, she is absolutely beautiful. I really hope that someday soon she'll be at my house at half past six in the morning for reasons... well, for reasons other than early cooking.

"The clothes that I cook in will undoubtedly be a mess by the time dinner rolls around... especially with you helping-"

"What do you mean, especially with me helping?" I interrupt as I follow her into the kitchen and set the crock pot down on the counter.

Now she laughs... frankly, a little excessively. "Nothing, I meant nothing. I certainly didn't mean you have a tendency to create a mess wherever you go. And I'm certainly not alluding to the condition I found my kitchen in after you tried to make pancakes."

Donna ignores the scowl I'm giving her and just keeps talking. She's good at that. "When it gets close, I'll have to shower here and then dress for dinner."

A shower. Of course she's going to shower here. More naked-Donna-bathing at my house. This woman is going to kill me yet. "We have to dress for dinner?"

She's walked back into the living room from setting some more items in our kitchen... I mean, my kitchen. "Yes, we have to be dressed for dinner. I realize you're obsessed with naked people, but this is not going to be a soft-core Thanksgiving. There will be no nude dining here today."

Nude dining with Donna, now that is interesting. "I don't know... a nude Thanksgiving doesn't sound so bad to me."

She shoots me an inquisitive look. "With guests? You want to eat naked while sitting next to Toby?"

Talk about a bucket of cold water. That image does the trick. No more talk of naked holidays from me. Except, it suddenly hits me that the only objection she seemed to have to nude dining is that we have guests coming... interesting. "So if we didn't have guests, you'd think about it? Because I can make a call..."

"Josh..." She just groaned at me.

I snicker at the cute expression on her face. She's already exasperated with me and it's only 6:35 in the morning. It's going to be a fun day. "You're the one who brought up naked people in the first place. You knew what I meant; why do we have to dress up for dinner?"

"Because it's a special occasion. It's what you do on special occasions. Don't worry; I brought you something to wear."

She what? "You did?" I'm sure I look as confused as I feel. She brought me something to wear? We're at my apartment. All of my clothes are here. Did she go shopping? But I dutifully follow her back to her bags at the door, and that's when a terrifying image hits me. I stop in my tracks. "It's not some sort of festive vest, is it? Because I won't wear a festive vest."

She stops as well and turns to face me with a bemused expression. "Festive vest?"

"Yeah, you know, something colorful with sequins and glitter out of the Siegfried and Roy holiday collection." I'm still shaking my head with trepidation.

"Josh, it's too early. What are you talking about?"

I just lift an eyebrow at her. She knows what I'm talking about. There's a picture. I've seen it in her apartment. It's of her whole family and her dad has on, I'm not kidding you, a festive Thanksgiving vest.

It takes her a second, and then I see understanding pass across her features and she rolls her eyes to the ceiling. "It was 1981, Josh... and there were only a couple of sequins... on the pilgrim's hat and buckles." She motions to her own chest as if she were wearing the vest herself. "My dad only wore it because I picked it out and gave it to him."

"Exactly my point. You picked it out. And you gave it to him. So when you say you brought me something to wear on Thanksgiving, what am I to think, but-"

"I was eight!" she exclaims loudly. I just cock my head at her and she turns back to her bag. "I didn't bring you a festive holiday vest."

I breathe a sigh of relief. That was a close one, because, believe it or not, I might just be far enough gone to wear a vest, if she asked me to. "What did you bring me then?"

She reaches into her overnight bag and then holds up my favorite sweater.

"My sweater."

"Your favorite sweater."

"It's not my favorite. I don't play favorites with my clothing. That's something Sam would do, not me. Why do you have my sweater?"

"You already admitted to me in the hospital that it was your favorite sweater." I did? I must have been really rattled by her accident to say such a thing. "You remember the hospital, Josh? I fell off a horse. That's when you loaned it to me." She bites her lip and if I'm not mistaken, turns slightly pink. It's hard to tell since she just came in from the cold. I nod my head. Obviously I remember the hospital and I remember giving her my sweater; how could I forget? Okay, maybe I forgot she still had my sweater, but I remembered everything else. "I had it cleaned... so you can wear it today if you want."

"I can?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Well, when you said dress for dinner, I was picturing something more formal like..."

"Like what? A ceremonial festive vest? Don't tell me that you secretly wanted to wear the vest and are now disappointed that I didn't bring you one," she asks with a mischievous quirk of her lip.

"No, I wasn't picturing a festive vest until you told me you brought me something to wear. Before that I thought you meant dressy, like..."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, like black tie."

Now, Donna is just outright giggling at me as she leads us back to the kitchen. "You thought we were going to dress in formalwear to have dinner with CJ and Toby in your dining room?"

Isn't that what 'dressing' for dinner means? I shrug. "You said it was a special occasion."

"Yes, a special occasion... a holiday with friends, not a State Dinner. You can wear this black sweater and any pants that aren't jeans. That's special enough."

"Oh..."

"What?" She eyes me curiously

"I was looking forward to you in something low-cut that maybe, I don't know, showed a little leg. I suppose if I'm not in a tuxedo... then you won't be wearing that, either?" That was me flirting with her. Did you get that? Do you think she got it? I mean, I even wagged my eyebrows and everything.

She just rolled her eyes at me. Is rolling the eyes good or bad in this case? I'm not sure if she got the flirting vibe I was sending or not, because now she's back to business. "We need to get to work if we're going to have dinner at two."

"I'm all yours. Do with me what you wish." Just for the record, that was also flirting. I decided last night, during the movie, that since I know this is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, that I should probably start laying it on a little thicker. Maybe that way she'll notice and make my job of actually telling her easier. Or, you know, just do it for me.

"Let's see..." She's started taking things out of boxes and bags and laying everything out on the counters. "...while I tackle the turkey, why don't you get the china out?"

"China?" I furrow my brow to the point where I'm sure they are knitted together. "Did you bring china?"

"Nope."

"Then what are you talking about? I don't have china. I have plates. Plain white plates. And they're right in that kitchen cabinet there."

"You have china, Josh. And since this is a special occasion, if you have it, we're going to use it."

"I don't think so." Is she crazy? The mere notion is ridiculous. "I'm a single guy. Why would I have some frilly china?"

"Your mother says your grandmother's china is in a blue crate in your storage area in the basement of the building. She says she packed it and put it there herself when she moved out of the house in Connecticut."

"She told you all this yesterday..."

"Yes."

"Why would she have brought china here? I don't want or use china."

She's shaking her head at me. "True. But your grandmother left it to you and as unlikely a scenario as it seems..." She's grinning broadly as she talks, even though she's looking down at the sink where she's unwrapped the turkey, "...one day you might actually find some lonely woman who, shockingly, is willing to marry you. Obviously this woman will be slightly insane and not a little desperate, but she'll be thrilled you have china and then you'll have a use for it."

When she glances up at me, it's with a self-satisfied smirk. I just smirk back at her in a very adult manner and announce that I'm going to the basement. To look for my china.

Someday I might find some woman willing to marry me? Was that an insult? Just wait until she finds out that she's the slightly-insane, obviously-desperate woman I have in mind for the job! Should I just say it? Go right back up to my kitchen and announce at 6:45am on Thanksgiving that she's the one. Ask her to marry me?

No? You're right, probably not a good idea. First, it's a little too soon for that. We still haven't kissed yet. And if I polled a hundred people, I think I'd get a high positive response that you should kiss a woman before you ask her to marry you. But I'm not sure, because if you polled a hundred Joshs you'd get a high positive response that it's not necessary to have kissed a woman in order to know that you're in love with her and want to spend the rest of your life with her. And if I proposed, I think we'd get to the kissing part really fast... if, of course, she said yes. But that's kind of a big if. Hmmm... if I called Joey Lucas, do you think she could put a poll in the field and have hard numbers for me by dinner? Yeah, probably not. Besides, kissing isn't the only problem.

Prior to a proposal, I'm thinking that two people probably should have at least gone on a date. Although, I'd argue that last night at the movies was date-like. Don't you think? I mean, I asked her to a movie. I drove us to the movie. I paid for everything. There was sharing of popcorn. And I flirted with her during the movie. And at the end of the evening I drove her home. Walks like a date, talks like a date... it's a date! You think both parties have to know it's a date, before it can be considered a date? Well, that's a stupid rule.

Besides, that's not all. When I took her to Fat Phil's after Eric the affianced exterminator cancelled on her, that was date-esque. What about bringing her Sweetest Day presents? That's something a boyfriend would do. And just a couple of weeks ago we had a nice cozy evening watching movies at my place. Of course we were watching porn, but it was nice all the same. My point is that even though we haven't dated, we've dated.

In any case, I know it's too soon to propose and I know it's too soon to tell her that I love her. So today, my mission is to flirt. I'll just continue on with my flirting plan for now and see if she catches on. By the way... is it true that having my grandmother's china makes me more of a chick magnet? Is that something I should have been advertising all these years?

***

"Do I have to peel the whole potato? Or can I, you know, just get the highlights?"

He was assigned potato duty just moments ago after I found him in the living room watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. He claimed he was watching for the Kermit the Frog balloon so that *I* wouldn't miss it. I think he was just dodging the cooking, but we still agreed to turn up the sound so we could hear the parade, and Kermit's appearance, from the kitchen.

"How do you just get the highlights?" I ask, the amusement plain in my voice. He holds up the potato for my inspection. The majority of the potato is peeled, save for several haphazard strips. I don't even know exactly how he missed them; poor guy has zero potato-peeling technique.

I press my lips together to keep from laughing and shake my head. "The whole potato, Josh."

"You're tough. You're like the Iron Chef."

"Do you even know who the Iron Chef is?"

"Nope, but he/she sounds tough."

"You'll thank me when the mashed potatoes don't have skins in 'em... and I'm not tough." I shake my head, but grin while I do it.

"You are, you're a... a taskmaster. A Thanksgiving taskmaster. What will you do to punish me if I don't peel fast enough?"

"Get my whip," I deadpan and go back to dicing.

"Okay, but only if you promise to use it." His eyes sparkle as he arches his brow at me and then goes back to peeling. What was that?

Would you think I was crazy if I told you that Josh has been flirting with me all morning? I mean FLIRTING, with a capital FLIRT. At least, I think he has been. Sometimes it's hard to tell, because Josh is a flirt by nature, but I know him. This is different. And it's not just this morning. Over the last few months, well, really all fall, things have been different with us. A little more intense, a little more intimate. And now a little more flirty.

Well, two can play at that game. I walk over to where he's sitting sideways on a kitchen chair, leaning forward, peeling potatoes into a paper grocery sack on the floor. Only a couple errant peels have been flung and are now stuck to the kitchen tile, so he hasn't been missing his target too badly. Standing behind him, I lean down and reach my arms around him, so that I'm covering each of his hands with my own. I grab his wrists in order to stop his peeling movement, which was probably unnecessary because I think he froze the second he felt me lean over him in the first place. Yup, he's frozen; in fact, I'm a tad concerned... he may not be breathing at all.

My cheek is just grazing his temple and I can't help but notice how warm and cozy it feels to be wrapped around him. Finally I feel, rather than hear, him exhale and he turns his head just slightly so more of his cheek is flush against mine. That feels... really, really nice.

"Like this." After taking a deep, calming breath, I grip his hands tightly and show him how to peel the potato from end to end in long, wide strokes. I can feel my heart thumping in my chest. Why is it thumping? We're just cooking! Yeah, I know... I know why it's thumping; it's just that if I'd realized I was going to have this strong of a physical reaction to just being near him, I might have re-thought this little peeling demonstration. Because my chest is pressed tight up against his back and that probably means he can feel my heart thump, too. Kind of a dead giveaway, isn't it?

"Got it?" My voice is a little hoarse as we finish peeling one potato. I've got to tell you, I don't think peeling potatoes has ever elevated my heart rate or made me lose my voice before. I guess there's always a first time for everything.

"Um..." His voice is a little breathy. Is this having an effect on him as well? "I don't think so, we better try another one." He reaches over and picks up a potato and even though I can't really see his face all that well, I know he's wearing a big, cheesy, dimpled grin.

His quip and suggestive tone immediately snap me back to reality. And I hastily stand all the way back up. Immediately, I miss his warmth... and the feel of his broad shoulders pressed underneath my chest... and the way his hair lightly tickled my earlobe... and the tingle I felt in my palms when I touched his skin... but these are all things I'm not going to feed his ego with right now.

"No... I've, uh... got some... uh... cooking to do, so you're... uh... on your own." How does that work? I try to give him a little of his own medicine, and he still ends up turning me into an incoherent babbler. What am I doing? This is my boss! Even if I've realized that my feelings go deeper than that, there needs to be some distinct line between us. I can't go draping myself over him, doing some sort of sexy potato peeling dance! That's not appropriate! I walk towards the sink, trying to look like I have a purpose while I struggle to remember what I'm supposed to be doing. Stuffing! I was working on stuffing.

Suddenly, I realize that Josh is saying my name. "Huh?" Apparently, he's been talking to me while I was attempting to remember what I was doing. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked how everything else is coming." Cripes, he's still wearing the same gigantic, cheesy grin from a few minutes ago. It's awfully cute. And the fact that he's wearing it after whatever it is that just happened makes me feel a little warm and gooey on the inside.

"Oh... oh." Thanksgiving, right. I'm cooking Thanksgiving, I remember. "Good. I think we're on schedule. Stuffing is looking good."

He's watching me, and now his expression has gone from goofy to perplexed. "I thought stuffing was supposed to be stuffed and cooked, you know, inside the turkey?"

"How do you know it's not?" I take a deep breath and swallow hard. Talking about the cooking. Excellent. That is a good, safe topic.

"Because the turkey is already in the oven and you're still making the stuffing. Do you put it in later? How does it work?" One thing I know for certain is that Josh doesn't really want to be acquainted with the intricacies of how stuffing is made. I know him well enough to realize this. When I seasoned the stuffing with the turkey's... uh... parts this morning, I made sure he was not in the room.

"Okay, you caught me. I suppose some people cook it in the turkey. But that was the one thing my mom and Grandma Moss agreed on. Easier to bake it in a pan and then put it in the crock pot."

"Crock pot!?" Okay, he said that very loudly. I look over at him in question. "That's what the crock pot is for? Oh, I see what's going on..." Now Josh is shooting me an accusatory look. He manages this while still smiling, because he's that good. But don't worry, he's also still on task. Still peeling the potatoes, just like I touched him, I mean *taught* him.

I might be blushing. But I'm going to blame it on the heat from the oven. Not on the heat from... anything else. "You see what's going on?" Does he know he made me overheat?

"Well, if it's not stuffed into the turkey, then it's not really stuffing, is it? At least that's what the President said over and over and over again on Monday." I spot the gleam in his eye. "Is this a Canadian thing? The President was also complaining about a guest chef from Montreal who didn't believe in stuffing birds."

"What?" I stop what I'm doing and put my hand on my hip.

"Is this your way of showing solidarity with your homeland today?"

"It's not my homeland. But, if I was showing solidarity with Canada today, then I'd probably be at work like any other Thursday, seeing as Canadian Thanksgiving takes place on a Monday in October."

"Ah-ha!" He points the potato peeler at me. "Just the fact that you know that, proves my point."

"What point?"

"That you're cooking the stuffing the wrong way. The un-American way."

Leaning over the counter, I rest my weight on my hands while shooting him what I like to call my 'warning glare.' It includes narrowed eyes and a pronounced frown. He is *this* close to me telling him the actual ingredients that go into stuffing. "And who says the way I'm cooking the stuffing is the wrong way?"

"I... not me?" His eyes go wide. Apparently, he's heeding my warning glare. "No matter what the President of the United States of America says... uh, the right way to cook stuffing is whatever way you are currently doing it."

"Good answer." I look up at him with a smirk. "You were this close to me leaving this entire kitchen for you to clean up by yourself." I hold up my thumb and index finger in demonstration and then squeeze them even tighter together when I add, "And this close to me not making your favorite."

"What favorite?"

"Your mom's very special green bean casserole." I watch his face twist into an expression I can't quite read. I decide it must be joy.

***

"COMING!" I holler when I hear the second knock. Pulling my sweater over my head, I quickly make my way towards my front door. I'm fully dressed, but just barely, since Donna showered first and I've only been out for about five minutes or so. Even so, I'm still quicker than she is. She made some crack about her needing more time because she actually has hair. It wasn't funny. And I'll have you know that I have hair, so much hair that it's even still wet. A little.

We took it to the very last minute, but we're in good shape for dinner and we got the kitchen pretty well cleaned up. Turns out, Donna and I are a pretty messy cooking team. And yes, I was part of the team. Not counting when I was watching for Kermit. Donna likes Kermit; I just wanted to make sure she didn't miss him. Okay... I was also hiding from the work, but while I was hiding from the work, I was simultaneously watching for Kermit.

Besides peeling potatoes and setting the table, I was also put in charge of something that had to do with yams. Even though I'm not really sure what I did to the yams, I boldly predict that yams are going to be the big winner today.

When I open the door, I find Toby's and CJ's smiling faces. Well, CJ's smiling face. Toby has his... well, his Toby face on.

After I greet them and motion them in, CJ looks around me, but doesn't enter. "Where's Donna?"

"She'll be out in a minute. She's just getting dressed."

I saw that! CJ just shot Toby an inquiring, what-the-hell-is-going-on-here look. I better explain. "Things got a little messy during the cooking, and she didn't have time to go home and shower."

"Ahhh..." CJ nods her head and holds out a large, fancy paper bag to me. "I come bearing pie."

Toby motions with his chin down to his much less fancy, but also large, brown paper bag and mumbles, "And I come bearing booze."

"Excellent." I take the bag from CJ and look inside. "You mean pies."

"Yes, pies."

"CJ, you do know that it's just the four of us, don't you?"

"Four? Are you sure?" CJ asks with doubt in her voice.

"Yes, there are just four of us. And you brought..." I glance back in the bag, "Four pies! Did you think we each were going to need our own pie?"

"Variety, Josh. We've got pumpkin, pecan, chocolate, and mincemeat. Something for everyone." I make a face when I hear the word mincemeat. What the hell is mincemeat anyway, and who would want to eat it? "And besides I'm pretty positive that there will be more than four for dinner."

"I don't think so. Donna said..." I look back up from the bag of pies and see three, not two, people standing in my hall.

A familiar voice asks, "Room at the table for one more?"

"I'm pretty positive that there will be more than four for dinner."

"I don't think so. Donna said..." I look back up from the bag of pies and see three, not two, people standing in my hall.

A familiar voice asks, "Room at the table for one more?"

"Sam!" I cry as I hand the bag of pies back to CJ. Sam steps in and gives me a big hug. "What are you doing here?"

"Good to see you too, Josh."

I pat him one more time on the back and then let go. "No, it's great to see you. But... what are you doing here?"

"Well, I-"

"Wait, come in first." I stand aside as they all trudge in and start taking off their outerwear.

"I was in New York on business and when the airports shut down, I got myself stranded there... you know... armed with only my wits to survive."

"Just your wits? How'd that work out for you?" Toby smirks.

"Not well, actually. But after much fortitude, scrappy determination and, you know, dumb luck, I was finally able to get on a train yesterday afternoon. With the hope of catching a flight back to California out of here. But there's no way, at least not yesterday or today. So I stayed at CJ's last night."

"Why didn't you call me?" I ask with a grin.

"I did. You weren't at home, the office or answering your cell last night." Oh, yeah, I was at a movie, with my assistant, on a non-date. "I called CJ and ended up staying at her place. And then we decided to surprise you guys today. Surprise."

"This is great. But my pager was on; you should have had the switchboard page me."

"Oh, CJ and I had fun, we went on a pie mission. It wasn't as easy as you'd think on the night before Thanksgiving; CJ had to call in favors."

Toby looks at CJ and says with a trace of a laugh in his tone, "You have pie favors... that you can actually call in? How does that work?"

"I know many people and am very resourceful, Tobus."

"I don't doubt it, but favors for pie? Tell me they weren't sexual in nature."

"No. Sorry to disappoint; it's not nearly that interesting of a story. About six months ago I convinced the Washington Post not to feature a story on HHS Undersecretary Dale Hurtweiler's son when he was arrested for underage drinking."

"Please tell me how this relates to pie on Thanksgiving and not to all of us going to prison." Toby hands me the bag of booze and says, "We're gonna need to open the hard stuff sooner than I thought." He turns back to CJ with a questioning look.

CJ shrugs and looks unimpressed by his scrutiny as she hands me the bag of pies. Frankly, it's hard for me to follow the conversation while I'm juggling the booze and pies. "Dale Hurtweiler's wife Deanna owns a quaint bakery in Chevy Chase."

"Oh, so these pies were bought with political payola? That's much better than a sexual favor."

"Yes, Toby, six months ago, this came across my desk and I told Hurtweiler I would only talk to the Washington Post and ask them not to feature a story about a 19-year-old sophomore at the University of Oregon who has accepted his punishment and who shouldn't be headline news in a paper three thousand miles away-- if he agreed to quietly pay me off in pie. A custard kickback, if you will. The next installment is a very berry Christmas torte."

Toby shakes his head. "I can see the headline now. Pie Scandal: White House Press Secretary covers up story in exchange for pastry."

"If it is a scandal, then I hope The Post can come up with a better headline than that." CJ states matter-of-factly.

"Hey! That was very clever. Better than 'custard kickback.'"

As the two of them finish up their bickering, Sam looks at me from where he's been mesmerized by my television. "Nice TV."

"42" High Definition Sony with an LCD screen." I have no idea what any of that means. But I memorized what the salesman said when he sold it to me.

"When did you get that?" Toby pipes up.

"Couple of weeks ago."

"Football is going to look incredible. This is a bonus!" Sam says excitedly.

"I know," I say smugly. My new television is impressive and very manly, despite the fact that a woman had to set it up. These guys don't need to know that.

"Look at Kermit; you can see his seams." Mesmerized, Sam squints at the television.

"Donna!" I yell down the hall. "You're missing Kermit. Among other things."

'Wow' is the only thing running through my mind as I watch her come down the hall over the top of the two bags I'm still holding. She did change into a dress. It's not some slinky formal number or anything. But it's... uh... yeah, nice. It's deep red and has long sleeves and it's kind of wrap-aroundy so it's low in the front and comes to several inches above her knee. It may not be an evening gown with a slit, but there's definitely cleavage-- tasteful cleavage, but cleavage nonetheless-- and I can definitely see some leg. And I'm definitely going to have to make a concerted effort not to stare at her, like the way I am at this very moment, through the whole afternoon. People will certainly notice if I do.

As soon as she emerges from the hall and sees Sam, she squeals his name and launches herself at him for a hug. After we repeat all the greetings and explanations, and both Sam and CJ tell Donna how nice she looks and she returns the compliments, she turns to me. "Don't think because Sam is here, that you're off the hook in the kitchen."

"Donna, I'm the guy who couldn't make a pancake, remember. I'm not sure I'm the guy you want on something as critical as potatoes."

"All you have to do is mash them. It's like free anger management."

"When could you not make a pancake?" Sam asks curiously.

"When he made a wreck of my kitchen and somehow spilled flour everywhere. It got into everything, including his own hair."

"You had flour in your hair?" CJ smirks at me as I shift under the weight of the bags. "That must have been sexy!"

"And I ended up making the worst pancake ever. So again, I say I'm not sure I should be the potato-guy."

"They weren't that bad." Donna meets my eye. Even though my arms are about to fall off from holding both the booze and the pies, I could stand here forever if she continued to smile at me like that. Then she turns to CJ with a slight grimace. "He looked a little like George Washington, you know, powdered white curls over his ears." She's pretending like she didn't like the look, but I know she secretly did.

"Why were you making pancakes?" Toby asks with a slightly suspicious snicker.

"See, it all happened after I was violently thrown from atop a large, powerful horse-"

"An 18-year-old mare called Pokey that was running from a bunny." I nudge Sam with my elbow in a conspiring manner, but I make a lot of noise since I'm holding two large paper bags. Donna catches this and narrows her eyes at me.

"An ER visit later, Josh brought me home and made me pancakes. *Tried* to make pancakes," she amends before meeting my eye. "In any case, Josh, you have some mashing to do. And everyone needs drinks. And I need to reset the table for five."

"Is it okay that I'm here?" Sam asks Donna with wide-eyed innocence.

"Of course! We have plenty of food and plenty of room." She pats his arm reassuringly. "You're a very welcome surprise, Sam." Sam just beams back at the room in general.

CJ walks by me and grabs the bag of pies back. "I'll help you reset the table"

Toby follows after snatching the bag of booze from my other arm. "And I'll pour. What's everybody having?"

Sam follows dutifully as Donna and I bring up the rear. With everyone ahead of us, I decide to throw caution to the wind and lean over to whisper in her ear. "You look beautiful."

She looks startled for a second, and then flashes me one of her brilliant smiles that makes me a little weak in certain parts of my body as we follow everyone into the kitchen.

"It smells wonderful in here, Donna," CJ calls several seconds later as we traipse into the kitchen after them.

"Thank you, CJ. I just hope it tastes okay. I'm very new at this," Donna replies nervously.

"I'm sure it's going to fabulous." CJ smiles as she heads for the dining room table, presumably to begin adding a place for Sam.

Toby immediately starts unpacking the liquor. No wonder the bag was heavy; he's got enough in there to open a small liquor store. I watch Donna as she crosses towards the oven. "You missed Kermit, you know."

"I'll find a way to go on living," Donna replies as she bends over and opens the oven door. "Why are you so obsessed with me seeing the Kermit balloon?"

"Can I baste the turkey!?" That was Sam. You probably could have guessed that, though. Donna nods and hands him the plastic baster thingy.

I look at her. "I'm not obsessed."

"Glasses?" Toby asks nobody in particular. I walk to the cabinet and start handing him wine glasses for CJ and Donna and a highball for him. At the same time, I grab a beer off the counter for me and one for Sam. Even though I was too busy staring at red-dress Donna to listen when people were giving their drink orders, I know these people. I know what they like.

"You are a little." Donna shakes her head at me.

CJ looks up from the dining room table. "This is going to be a tight fit."

"I thought you liked Kermit?"

Donna glances to the dining area and CJ. "We'll put an extra leaf in; one should do it." Then she looks back to where I'm standing, waiting for Sam to get done loving on the turkey so I can hand him his beer. "I do, as much as the next gal. But I have no special attachment. I don't have a thing. You seem to have a thing. What's with that?"

"I dunno." How did the Kermit thing start? Oh, because I was avoiding work and then Donna was standing in front of me demanding answers... without thinking, I answer, "Maybe it's just because Kermit reminds me of you."

"WHAT!" Donna screeches. CJ looks up from where she is clearing the table, Sam spins around from the oven and Toby stops mid-pour. All eyes in the room are on me.

Uh-oh. That must have been a very bad, very wrong thing to say. "Nothing?" I say with as many dimples as I can muster. I know I only have two dimples, but in times like these, I hope that maybe, like latent undiscovered superpowers, more will just appear and save me.

"I remind you of KERMIT!?" Her eyes are bugging out a little, which doesn't make her look less Kermit-like. Not that she's all that Kermit-like to begin with. I don't know what I'm saying. "THE FROG?!"

"Uh-oh." Sam sidles away from the oven, but stops when he sees the second beer in my hand. "Is that for me? I was going to have wine." I furrow my brow at him in disbelief and then turn back to Donna. Who is not wearing the look of a happy woman.

"Explain yourself!" She demands.

"Well... uh... I... you look really pretty today?" My answer is appropriately sheepish. I think.

"Today, great." She turns to face Sam. "Sam, do I look like a frog to you?"

"Um...I personally would not use that description, no." Sam takes the beer and moves closer to CJ in the dining room, probably in order to keep out of the fray. Coward.

"CJ?"

"Yeah?" She answers.

"Frog?" Donna asks sharply without taking her narrowed eyes off of me.

"Of course not."

"Toby?" She glances at him.

"Absolutely ridiculous."

"Thank you." She's back to glaring at me now. "Why do I remind YOU of Kermit?" Think fast. Think fast. "It's a compliment." Women like compliments, right?

"How is that a compliment!? You said I remind you of a green, male, singing frog-puppet."

CJ just snorted. I turn to glare at her. I don't need that kind of help. She just shrugs at me. You know, I'm beginning to think she's not on my side in this.

Sam clears his throat and takes one baby step forward and raises his right hand and extends his index finger slightly. "Technically, he's a Muppet."

"What?!" Donna asks tersely as she turns to face him. Good, she can be mad at Sam. That's better.

I see Sam swallow nervously, but he is undeterred. "Kermit is a Muppet. Josh compared you to a green, male, singing frog-Muppet."

"True." Donna nods after thinking for a second and then spins back to me. "You were explaining how this is a compliment. How comparing me to a green, male, singing, frog-Muppet is a compliment."

"This should be good." Toby actually looks amused as he sets Donna's full wine glass on the counter near her. He passes the other one to CJ as he goes to take his place next to her and Sam by the dining room table.

"Well, first, because you have skinny arms and legs." There, that should do it. I'm as good as out of this jam.

"Oh, boy." CJ emits a theatrical groan from the peanut gallery. "I can't look. Part of me wants to look, but I can't. Boys, tell me when it's over." What's her problem? I glance over and, yes, indeed, she has covered her eyes with one hand, while still holding her wine glass in the other.

"Don't women like being told that they are skinny? Isn't that a good thing?" I look to Toby and Sam and they both quickly shake their heads and wave me off as if to say 'don't look at me, man.'

"Sure, but what they don't like is being told that their limbs are disproportionately sized in comparison to their bodies!" Both of Donna's hands are resting defiantly on her hips.

"I didn't say that."

"No? Did you or did you not say that I remind you of Kermit because of my skinny arms and skinny legs?"

She's really asking me. I thought we all knew that the reason I was currently in this jam is that I did say that. "I'm not sure of the exact wording-"

"You did!"

"Well, that's not what I meant. You are perfectly in proportion, which you well know." I slowly move towards her, picking up her glass of wine on the way. When I reach her I hold it out to her before saying, "What I also meant is that you're kind and considerate and always willing to help a friend. AND Kermit is beloved by all who know him. Just like you."

She stares at me for what seems like eons, but it's probably only seconds. I glance at the peanut gallery. "Right, guys?"

"Yes, cherished... revered... treasured ... an icon." I hear Toby and Sam throw out a string of favorable terms. The two of them can stay for dinner... not that I'm in charge of that.

"That's crap. Don't buy it, Donna!" CJ calls out after yet another snort and then calmly takes another sip of wine, clearly enjoying my pain. I sneer at her for good measure, before turning to face my real problem.

After several more seconds, she finally says, "I'm still mad at you." But I can tell by the upward quirk of her lip she doesn't mean it. I've won her back! She takes her glass of wine from my hand, but just before she's about to take a sip, she suddenly sniffs. Uh-oh. Please don't tell me I've made her cry.

"And now you've made me burn your mom's special green bean casserole!" She whaps me upside the head with her oven mitt. Yeah, she's not crying.

***

"You let him off pretty easy back there; I would have made him suffer a little more." After I made Josh mash the potatoes, I sent him and the rest of the guests to the living room. CJ opted to stay with me while I finished dinner.

"Seriously, if the stupidest thing he does today is compare me to a skinny green Muppet, then I think we're ahead of the game."

"Skinny, green, beloved Muppet. Don't forget the beloved part." CJ is smirking at me. What's that about? What does she know?

"You know him, the king of spin," I try as way of explanation.

"I'd kill for this subzero fridge and double range." CJ changes the subject as she wanders around Josh's kitchen while sipping her wine. "You know, I have always thought this kitchen was tragically wasted on a man."

"That is exactly what I said!" I nod emphatically. "Except I said it about his bathroom. You should see it, CJ. Especially the tub."

"Oh yeah?" She raises an eyebrow at me. Which in retrospect probably should have been a warning to stop. "I've been in his bathroom."

"I mean the master bath. The tub... it has jets and bubbles and it's really deep. I've never felt anything like it. Totally incredible."

"So you took a bath today?"

"Oh, Lord no, I had maybe five minutes to shower and get ready before you guys got here today."

"But you've used it before?" Hmm, now both of her eyebrows are raised. Is this damning? My bathing here? It is, isn't it? Even if nothing has ever happened.

"Oh... well... um... yes?"

"Yes? Are you asking me?" She's smirking now.

"No, I've used it."

"So your bathing here today was not an isolated incident due to messy dinner prep, huh?" I feel my forehead furrow and consciously try to get it to smooth out. Forehead furrowing might make me seem like I'm guilty of wrong doing. And I haven't done anything wrong. Except fall in love with my jackass of a boss.

"Well, I just-"

"Something you do on holiday's and special occasions?" CJ smiles, but I don't know what kind of smile it is.

"No, it was a trade." I'll tell her the truth; I have nothing to hide. Except, you know, the whole being in-love-with-Josh thing.

"Trade for what? Did he shower at your house?"

"No!" I nod violently as I put dinner rolls in a basket. "In exchange for helping him set up the new TV, he gave me dinner and a bath." Desperately I search for some sort of misdirection; a change of subject. "Do you know Josh subscribes to porn?"

CJ's face freezes like a mask, but her voice rises slightly. "Porn... what are you talking about? Like traceable porn that someone could find and, for instance, use to embarrass him and the administration?"

Okay, porn might not have been the best way to distract CJ. "Um... no... don't worry... not at all... it's just Cinemax. But I razz him about it because I think its porn, disguised as not-porn. But you know it's all above board, lots of upstanding people subscribe to Cinemax."

"Oh... So let me get this straight, you came over, took a bath, had dinner and then after setting up his new television, the two of you had a nice cozy evening watching not-porn together."

"When you say it like that, it sounds like..."

"You're married?"

"It's not like that, CJ." She's looking at me pointedly and I gulp and blink several times. This is a very-very-not-good bad thing for her to be thinking.

"Sounds like that." Is she angry? Is she going to fly into Press Secretary mode? Does she even give a damn? Honestly, I can't tell. But it's obvious that no matter what I say, she thinks something is going on between Josh and I. Oh Boy. But, frankly, the only thing that really bothers me is that if I'm going to do the time I really, really, really wish I'd done the crime.

****

"Josh."

"What?" He's hungrily staring down at his full plate.

"Say something." We're all seated for dinner. Josh at the head of the table; I'm to his right and seated nearest the kitchen for easy access. Sam's on my other side. Toby is across from me and CJ next to him. Its 2:30, only a half hour off my mark. Not bad for a first timer! I'm not sure about dinner, but I think everything is okay. The stuffing is a tad dry-- not bad, but not like my mom's-- the potatoes are a bit lumpy, but that's Josh's fault, and I had to scoop out the burned part of Josh's mom's special green bean casserole, but again, I blame Josh for that. Sam took over the basting of the turkey; he spent the last hour or so jumping up and coming to the kitchen every ten minutes. He also carved it, which I was grateful for.

"Say what?" Josh looks confused. All the man does is talk. Why is the request confusing?

"A few words. A toast. Something simple."

He looks at me, with a bit of fear in his eyes. "Simple?"

"Simple," I say again as I nudge his knee under the table.

"Josh and Toby are the word guys, why do I-"

"Because you're the host." This time I dig my nails into his thigh a bit to show I mean business.

He takes a deep breath. "Friends." He raises his wine glass and we all follow suit. "Thank you for joining us and making this a very joyous day. Happy Thanksgiving!" As we all clink glasses, I look around the table. If anyone noticed his use of the word us, they didn't show it. However, I noticed it. He did mean he-and-I when he said us... right?

I reward his nice simple toast with a bright smile and a soothing pat where I'd pinched his thigh moments ago. I might rest my hand there a moment too long. It distracts me a second and everyone's forks are well on their way to their months when I yell, "Wait!"

"What?" Josh asks, putting down his fork.

"We have to say what we're thankful for."

"What? No, Donna... why?"

"Because it's Thanksgiving and that's what we do on Thanksgiving."

"I don't do that. In fact, I've never done that. What people, where, do that?"

"We're doing it," I say firmly and everyone follows Josh and puts down their forks.

"Toby, why don't you go first."

Toby is silent for several long moments. Long enough that I'm afraid he's going to ignore my order-- I mean, request-- when he finally speaks. "Well, of course, I'm thankful for my kids and I'm thankful for... the 12 ounce T-bone at Morton's." I nod, realizing that it was a victory getting even that from Toby.

"Sam."

"I'm thankful that there was a blizzard and I was stranded and what was shaping up yesterday to be a miserable Thanksgiving, has turned into an absolutely wonderful holiday. And I'm thankful for High Definition television. I'm buying one as soon as I get home." He nods his head once for emphasis.

"Very good, Sam." I look to the only other woman present. "CJ?"

"Well, of course, for the health and happiness of family and friends, yadda, yadda, yadda..." She looks thoughtful for a moment. "...and I'm thankful for La Prairie Cellular Radiance Eye Cream. The Swiss are brilliant when it comes to skincare."

"Really? It's that good?" I ask with much interest. CJ is over a decade older than me, but you wouldn't know it by her skin. She looks incredible.

"Oh, it's fantastic," she enthuses.

"How often do you use it?"

"Donnaaaa." Josh groans. I turn to him. "If you're going to get a make-up consultation, can we eat?"

"No, sorry. It's your turn, Josh, go ahead."

He leans back in his chair. "What am I most thankful for? What am I..."

"Jooooosh."

"What?"

"Before Christmas, please."

"You're the one who was just-"

"Say something!"

"Republicans."

"What?" Should have known he wouldn't take this seriously. But I guess no one else has, either.

"I'm thankful for Republicans," he states confidently.

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Why?"

"Without Republicans, I'd have no one to kick around. And I like kicking them around. So I choose Republicans to be thankful for."

I roll my eyes, but accept his answer. Sam looks at me. "What about you, Donna?"

"Hmmm... I'm thankful that my friends and family are healthy. AND that I didn't die when I was thrown off an 18-year-old mare called Pokey." I glance at Josh. "And that Eric the Exterminator ended up having a fiancé."

"Huh?" CJ asks, obviously confused. But I'm not going to tell the story. But I do notice that Josh seem to blushing, maybe he caught my meaning. Just because there are others here doesn't mean I can't flirt, like he was earlier today. Covert flirting.

"Long story." I then smile brightly and announce, "Everyone dig in!"

"What about Grace?" CJ asks. "You know, isn't that something we should do on Thanksgiving. Bless the food or something, because we're celebrating the bounty and we're giving the thanks... or something."

"Oh... right. Toby, do you want to say some sort of nondenominational thanking-for-the-food-type words?"

He smiles at me with what might be indulgence, but agrees.

When he's done, four hungry pairs of eyes look at me. I smile brightly. "What are you all waiting for, eat!"

"More green beans?" I offer the serving dish full of casserole to Josh.

"Yes, please." He smiles widely at me. The casserole was a little burnt, but salvageable... and Josh can't get enough. No wonder his mother gave me the recipe. I'll have to call and thank her.

"Sam's eating the cranberries," I announce triumphantly.

"Huh?" Sam looks up from his plate.

"Oh, last night at the store, Josh didn't think we needed cranberries. Didn't think anyone actually ate them. I'm just announcing that I was right and he was wrong... which is obviously not an infrequent thing." I feel Josh's knee nudge mine playfully under the table. I've finished two glasses of wine, is that a lot on Thanksgiving?

"Oh, so you guys were at the supermarket last night?" Sam asks between forkfuls. "Actually...," he motions to the overflowing table and asks rhetorically, "Looking at all this food, where else would you have been?"

"Anarchy. Total anarchy. I'm never going back." Josh shudders as he takes a drink. "The public shouldn't... I don't know, be let out in public."

"Some call them the public, Josh, we call them voters," Toby says with an actual smile.

"Trust me, that idea is what made the whole experience all the more terrifying."

"No wonder you couldn't hear your phone in the store when I called." Sam looks thoughtful. "Except that it didn't ring at all."

"Yeah, that's because they make you turn your cell phone off when you go into the movies these days. Who knew?"

"People who go to movies more than once every five years," I giggle.

He shoots me an ineffectual glare. "Anyway, I turned it off in the movie. But like I said, my pager was on for emergencies."

"The movie?"

"Yeah," Josh confirms with a slow nod.

"You..." CJ just choked on her wine. "You went to a movie?"

"I did."

"Why?"

"Why what? It's a movie. People go to movies from time to time and I'm a person. It's not unheard of," Josh shoots back.

"He likes Meg Ryan," I interject while rolling my eyes.

"So you ditched Donna for Meg Ryan and left her to do all the work for today... by herself?" Sam shakes his head in exaggerated disgust.

"No!" He quickly defends. Suddenly, even through the warmth of my slight wine buzz, I don't think we should tell them that we went to a movie together. "Donna went to the movie, too. We made a deal." Too late.

"What deal?" CJ asks curiously.

"I'd go grocery shopping if she went to the movies. And trust me, I got the short end of that stick."

"Why!?" I growl at him. I probably shouldn't ask this in front of everyone, but... oh well, it's done now.

"Because I had to go on a terrifying journey through the ninth gate of supermarket hell, while you got an extremely pleasant time at the movies with me. You got the much more attractive deal."

"Oh, I did, did I?" I press my lips together firmly.

Sam grabs his drink and shakes his head at Josh. "You never learn, do you, buddy."

"You didn't have an extremely pleasant time at the movies with me?" Josh asks me sounding incredulous, like the possibility that I wouldn't have had a good time is utterly unfathomable.

I look around the table at everyone but Josh. "It's a very, very bad movie. Completely unbelievable. Meg Ryan actually stops the tidal wave and saves the world by using a magnetized-"

"Don't tell me!" Sam shouts and covers his ears. "I haven't seen the movie yet." Toby rolls his eyes at him.

"I wouldn't bother." I shake my head. "Really." Now the truth is that, although the movie sucked, Josh is right. I had an extremely pleasant time at the movies... with him. The 'with him' part being the key to the extremely-pleasant-time thing. Again, not something I'm going to announce to other people... or to him.

Josh looks conspiratorially over at Sam. "There's naked Meg Ryan breastage, twice."

I look at CJ as if to make a point. "Told you he liked porn disguised as not-porn."

"She thinks everything is porn." Josh dismisses me with a wave of his hand. "When she's the one who got into..."

"So does anyone need anything? More stuffing, Sam?" Yes, I just interrupted Josh. What would you have me do? Let him announce to our guests that I like to watch soft-core porn with him? I know I told CJ, but I didn't say I liked it and someone needs to put a stop to this madness. However, let me clear one thing up. I really don't like to watch soft-core porn; again, it's the with him part that makes it enjoyable.

CJ is shaking her head at Josh. "So we all had to cancel our Thanksgiving plans to work, but instead of working, you go to a movie so you can see Meg Ryan's breasts?"

"Well, you were out accepting pies in exchange for political favors instead of working, so I wouldn't get too uppity," Toby says dryly. CJ huffs at him before he changes the subject. "Donna, that dinner was amazing. Are you sure you've never done it before?"

Sam nods in agreement. "An excellent repast."

"Fantastic," CJ agrees quickly.

"This was my first Thanksgiving." I feel myself beam a little at their praise. There were issues, but overall, not a humiliating effort on my part. Then I feel a hand gently squeeze my bare knee and turn to see Josh shooting me a crooked smile with a proud look in his eye. It's more meaningful than words and I feel a small lump forming in my throat. Also, is it me or is it awfully warm in here all of a sudden?

"This is absolutely beautiful..." CJ is examining her bread plate carefully. "I noticed it earlier, but must have been too hungry to process it. But it's stunning."

"It really is," Sam agrees as he picks up a piece of china and inspects it carefully. "Is this Lenox?"

"It is." I nod my head enthusiastically, which helps me get over the whole emotional lump-in-the-throat thing.

Toby just stares at Sam with an open mouth. "Did you just look at a... plate and identify what kind of plate it is?"

"China, Toby... fine china. And yes, I did," Sam answers unabashedly and then looks pleased with himself. "Did you know that the Truman, Wilson and FDR china are all Lenox?"

"I did," I agree enthusiastically, because it reminds me of a piece of trivia I've been meaning to use all day. "Speaking of FDR... did you know that in 1939 he moved Thanksgiving from the fourth Thursday in November to the third? Anyone know why he did it?"

Josh is shaking his head at me as I finish enlightening everyone with my interesting tidbit. "We didn't invite the President for a reason, Donna. And that reason was, so that there would be no pop quizzes."

"I know," Sam answers earnestly, ignoring Josh. "He wanted to give holiday retailers an extra week of sales. Since consumers don't generally begin shopping for Christmas until the day after Thanksgiving."

See, Sam plays along. I miss Sam. "People were so mad that he messed with it, you know what they called it?"

Now Josh smiles at me indulgently. "No idea, what?"

"Franksgiving!" I announce it a bit triumphantly. Because I think it's funny and interesting. And I'm sure everyone else does, too. At least the President would, if he were here.

Sam adds, "But alas, Franksgiving was short-lived. Due to public outcry, Congress changed the date back two years later."

"How would you know that, Sam? How would you possibly know that? And why?"

"I'm a smart guy Toby, I know things about American history and-"

"No! Not the FDR Franksgiving thing. The china thing. I'm still back on you knowing stuff about plates."

"I used to work at the White House." Sam makes the statement like it should clear up any and all questions.

"Yeah, me, too. Still do, in fact, but I don't know about ceremonial crockery." Toby is incredulous.

"Sometimes, I would hang out in the china room. And I retain things." At Toby's still disbelieving look, Sam shrugs. "Mallory made me study up after she found out that I didn't know anything about the mansion." He glances at me with a plate still in his hand. "Where did this come from?"

"It's Josh's," I declare. Josh looks unimpressed with my announcement.

Toby's mouth just fell open as he turned to look at Josh. "You have fancy china? Fancy china that apparently, Sam can identify the make and model of within seconds. What's happened to you guys? I mean, I knew there was a chance that California was going to turn Sam soft, but not you, Josh... never you."

Josh is just shaking his head back and forth in a short quick motion, and his mouth is half open like he's about to defend himself, but I beat him to it. "He does have fancy china. Isn't it gorgeous?" This is payback for the Kermit thing.

"It's all flowery," Toby snickers as he scowls at a plate. In defense of the china, it's not all flowery. It's white, rimmed with a platinum edge, and there's a small platinum design, which may or may not be an abstract flower, in the center.

"Why do you have flowery china?" Toby asks. "Did you suddenly become a woman and I didn't notice?"

Sam pretends to look affronted. "Hey, Josh can have china. It doesn't make him less of a man... It doesn't make him more of one, but it doesn't make him less of one."

"Josh just likes nice things." I smile slyly at him and pat his arm. "Pretty things for a pretty boy."

"DONNA!" That was a whine, through and through.

"What?" I ask innocently. In response, he just bugs his out eyes at me. "It was his grandmother's." I finally let Josh off the hook. "He didn't even know he had it until today."

CJ studies it carefully. "It doesn't look that old."

"It's not." I shake my head. "Josh's parents bought his grandmother the set in the 60's and then she passed it to Josh. It hasn't been used in years."

"How do you know more about his family's possessions than he does?"

"Oh..." This might not sound all that good, either. "Um... his mom told me all about it yesterday."

"Your mom's not here, is she?" Sam asks while looking around with confusion.

"No..." Josh nods his head.

"I talked to her on the phone."

"Oh..." Three heads at the table bob up and down, like it was the most normal thing in the world for an assistant to discuss her boss's china with his mother.

***

Sam stretches and yawns. "I haven't eaten that much food in... well, ever."

"Don't worry, Sam, I don't think you're in any danger of losing your petite waistline," Toby grunts from the position he's taken on the couch.

I'm so full I can't move, which made helping with the dishes hard, really hard. I loudly advocated just throwing everything in the dishwasher, but, apparently, with china you aren't supposed to do that. Besides being frilly, that stuff is a real pain in the ass. If Donna didn't like it so much, I'd pack it up and send it back to mom. Anyway, Donna wanted to wash everything by hand. Well, guess what? I finally won one! That's right; Donna saw the wisdom in what I was saying and decided we could put them in the dishwasher. Okay... fine, we called my mom and she said that it was safe to put the plates in the dishwasher. I really like my mom.

Now, Toby and I have collapsed on opposite sides of the couch, and Sam is reclining in a chair. Donna and CJ are still in the kitchen doing what women do in there after everything, to a male eye, appears to be done. What specifically that is, I have no idea.

As soon as we are settled, out of earshot of CJ and Donna, and ready for a masculine afternoon of football, beer and grunting, Sam turns to me and whispers fiercely, "I can't believe it!"

"What!?" I'm startled by his intensity.

"You didn't tell me!"

"Tell you what?" Since I'm so full and can't really move, I just turn my head slightly to the right in order to look at him. Wearing, of course, an expression that says I think he's lost a marble or two.

"I wish you would have told me. I know I don't live here anymore, but this is big news!"

"Well, uh, I don't-"

"We talk at least once a week, so there really is no excuse." At this point, Toby pulls his attention from the TV and the football game and looks between Sam and me.

"What big news?" My voice has a slightly nervous lilt to it. Since I can hear it, I'm sure the other two can. "My new TV?"

"No, but you didn't tell me about your new TV, either. This is so great. It's about time. You two are terrific together. I've always thought so. So how long has it been going on? Have you had any problems at work?"

"What are you talking about?" I know exactly what he's talking about.

"You and Donna."

"What about me and...uh... Donna?"

"What do you mean, what do I mean? How long have you been together? When did it happen? How did it happen? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, uh..."

"Seriously, has it been a problem at work? Because I do know she's still your assistant."

Toby looks over at me and I see him trying hard to suppress a smile. "Yeah, Josh, has it been a problem at work?"

"No... no problems. But that's because-"

"Good! I always thought that if it weren't for work, this would have happened years ago."

Sam leans over and claps me on the shoulder. "I'm really happy for you, man."

I can't help it; his enthusiasm is infectious and, well, I'm really happy, too. I grin back at him. "Thanks."

My happiness is short-lived though. When I hear a raised voice from my left. "It's true!?"

I whip my head around to look back at Toby, who is currently wearing an expression that I can't quite read. But it's not an expression of approval. "Um..."

"I was just thinking that Sam has been away too long; that he'd just forgotten how you two are together... but he's right, isn't he? You guys are together."

"No." Taking a deep breath, I shake my head and look back and forth between the two. "It's not true." I think my voice was a little sad there.

"How can it not be true?" Sam looks and sounds disbelieving.

"What do you mean?"

"Everything going on... here... today. You're throwing a dinner party together. That is a pretty big sign."

"It was last min-"

"And she talks to your mom about your family heirlooms..."

"And about mom's special green bean casserole," I mumble. Thankfully, Sam's still talking and didn't hear me.

"From what I can gather, you're her first call when she's in the hospital; you, who can't even reheat soup, tried to make her pancakes, and she's your first choice when it comes to dragging someone to see Meg Ryan's breasts with you."

"So?"

"I've seen couples before, you two are a couple."

From the corner of my eye, I see Toby scratching his beard and looking thoughtful. "He has a point, Josh, this is quite the little picture of ideal domesticity that you two are staging here today. You've got an almost Norman Rockwell thing going on." He takes a sip of his beer. "Except for the expensive electronic equipment and, you know, us."

"Well, I, uh..."

"Yeah?" They both look at me with unabashed interest.

"It's not true..." I inhale sharply, because this is it. I'm going to admit this out loud, for the first time ever. "But... uh, you know..." Do you think they understood what I meant?

"Really?" Sam asks, and they are both still studying me. It's unnerving. But I just nod my head. Once again, Sam claps me on the shoulder. "Good, then. I'm still very happy for you."

I can feel that my grin is large and goofy. "Thanks Sam. I appreciate that." I look over at Toby boldly; for some reason, semi-admitting this thing with Donna makes me feel a little defiant.

Toby flashes me a rare genuine smile and then leans back on the couch. "So, what are you going to do about it?"

"Currently, I'm letting her take over my home, my kitchen, my bathroom, pretty much my life."

"What about work?" That was Toby again. Leave it to Toby to bring up the practical part of the dilemma.

"Well, I've talked to Leo--"

Just then, CJ pokes her head in the room and I stop talking... quickly. "I need pie orders."

"I'm so full; I couldn't possibly eat another bite," Sam groans dramatically.

"No pie for Sam," CJ calls.

"Wait, I didn't say that!" Sam asserts with a start.

"Yes, you did. You clearly just said that you can't eat anymore."

"It's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

"I meant that even though I'm full, I'd like a slice of pumpkin and a slice of pecan."

"Got it. Toby?"

Toby is about to deliver his order when Sam interrupts. "And chocolate."

CJ looks over back to him. "Okay, you want pumpkin, pecan and chocolate. Done. Toby?"

"I-"

"And mincemeat," Sam interjects again.

CJ turns back to him with a laugh. "So you're so full you can't eat another bite, but you want pumpkin, pecan, chocolate and mincemeat? Is that right?"

"Yes." Sam leans back, seemingly finally satisfied. "But just small pieces, please; maybe an inch, inch and a half each on the big end."

Toby and I both stare at him, until he shrugs and defends, "What? I went to great lengths to help get these pies. I want to have the full experience."

After CJ finishes taking the rest of the pie orders and returns to the kitchen, Toby turns to me. "You were saying about Leo."

"Nothing. Just that I'm dealing with it."

He looks at me curiously for a minute and then just nods and goes back to watching football. In the time it took CJ to take our pie order, I decided I don't want to discuss it with anyone but Donna. Now, as for when I'm going to have this discussion with her... I don't know. But I know it needs to be soon. Very soon. Did I mention I'm still nervous?

About ten minutes later, we're all enjoying pie. Even Toby admits that CJ's illicit pies are worth the potential infamy.

***

"Would anyone hate me if I go change?" Donna asks once the pie plates are cleared. I would. No, I don't mean it like that. I just mean that I like that red dress she's wearing... a lot.

"Of course not. You deserve to be comfortable after all you've done today," CJ encourages with a smile. Well, that is a good point. But I still like her in this dress. Remind me to tell her she should wear it more often.

A few minutes later, Donna is back in a cute little sweat suit. If the dress had to go, this is not a bad substitute; because, quite frankly, it's very form-fitting for a sweat suit. How many clothes did she bring with her, anyway? Not that I'm complaining. She flops onto the couch between Toby and I. "What did I miss?"

"It's still the first quarter in the Dallas game. No score yet."

"Is Green Bay playing?"

I shake my head and with a laugh, reply, "No, not today."

"Well, then, I don't care who wins," she declares as she tucks her legs under her and leans against me slightly. I smile at her for several seconds and then go back to watching the game. It's not five minutes later when I feel her head on my shoulder. I look down and feel my heart flip completely over. She's asleep. Fast asleep, on me. Her blonde hair is fanned out on the back of the couch. Her cheek is snuggled up against my arm. At rest, with her eyes closed, she looks peaceful and quite lovely. She absolutely casts a spell on me; I lean down and without thinking, softly kiss the top of her head.

When I finally look up, I find CJ staring at me. She was obviously just watching me watch Donna and, more to the point, kiss Donna. I freeze for a second and then swallow hard, my eyes never leaving hers. Suddenly, the defiance from a few minutes ago comes back. From the expression on her face, I can tell she knows... everything. But she doesn't look angry. She just gives me a kind of melancholy half-smile, an almost imperceptible nod, and goes back to watching the game.

Several minutes later Toby has some choice expletives for the referees. I shush him and when he looks at me questioningly, I motion down to Donna. He looks startled for a minute and then surveys the room before pointing to Sam. I glance to the chair and see that Sam is passed out cold as well. Lightweights.

***

Toby, CJ and Sam just left and Donna still hasn't woken up. It's just a few minutes before six; Toby left so he could get to Andi's and CJ decided she should get home as well. The two of them did not have the easiest time rousing Sam, especially since they were trying to do it without waking Donna. It took some shaking. And some poking. And eventually, once he was cognizant, some promises of more pie. But finally, with profuse, whispered thank yous, they let themselves out. Which I let them do, because I knew that if I moved I'd wake Donna, and bad host or not, I had no intention of moving or waking Donna.

After they leave, I look down at Donna again and smile. Wine and tryptophan strike again. Did I mention that I love wine and tryptophan? Well, I'd love anything that helps Donna to fall asleep on me. What should I do? Get up and let her sleep on the couch by herself? Wake her? Move her to the guest bed? To my bed? I'm kinda sleepy, too. What the hell? Leaning back, I grab a throw pillow from the other end of the couch and toss it against the arm rest. I scoot down and then lower myself into a reclining position, pulling Donna with me. Several seconds later I'm on my back, wedged against the back of the couch and Donna is wrapped around me, snuggling into my shoulder, tucking her head under my chin, one arm flung over my waist.

As I lie on my couch, watching football on my new TV, Donna wrapped around me so tight I can feel her breath on my neck, I realize that this is pretty much as perfect a day as they come.

***

"Hi..."

"Josh..." I sigh groggily and nestle even farther into his neck. It takes about five seconds for the reality of the situation to sink in and then I freeze. Except for my eyes, which go wide, but all I can see from my current position is Josh's sweater... and Josh's chin. And I'm seeing these objects at incredibly close range.

"Josh!"

"Hi again." I hear a bit of a laugh in his voice. What is that doing there? This isn't funny! It's... it's not something that should be happening. However, it feels really right, so I don't move. But I do assess. Because I really need to figure out what in the hell is happening. We're on Josh's couch. That much is obvious. Josh seems to be laying catty- corner against the back of the couch and I'm arranged at roughly the same angle. Except that I'm facing him and... well... draped against him. Tightly against him. My top leg, which is my right leg, is tangled between his and my right arm is flung over him just above the waist, my elbow is bent and my hand is clutching his shoulder. And what may turn out to be most significant, my face is so close to his neck I could lick him if I wanted. I won't, but that doesn't mean I don't want to. Our chests are pressed together and I think I can feel his heartbeat. It might be elevated. Or maybe that's mine... hard to tell.

"Did you have a good nap?" There's still a bit of mirth in his tone.

"Nap?" It comes out a little froggy. How can be talking about naps at a time like this!? So nonchalantly. My throat is dry. I swallow several times.

"Yes, sleeping in the afternoon. Very common after turkey and wine and after the way you worked yourself to death this morning... a nap."

"Yeah... I guess... yes, I did." Because it's true. The nap was good. However, I should get up now. I really don't want to, but I should. Josh and I shouldn't be lying together like this. We shouldn't be tangled up together like this. I'm tangled with Josh! It's both a dream come true and a nightmare at the same time. Something like this should be planned, not happen by accident. We needed to talk about this, because this is not something that is acceptable under the parameters of our current relationship. So, yes, the right thing to do is to get up and then I'll... go from there, I guess. But at my first attempt to rise, he wraps his arm around me and gently holds me in place.

"Stay." His voice is imploring. I shift back slightly so I can see his face. His eyes are warm and brown and pleading. After a couple of seconds, he grabs another throw pillow off of the back of the couch and positions it under my neck so I can rest my head on it and still see him. Now we're sort of lying side by side, but our bodies are still pretty entwined. "Please, stay."

"Why?" The froggy quality is still there.

"We should talk." He's running his hand along my upper arm in a not at all unpleasant motion.

"About what?" I ask shyly, feeling myself blush. I know there are many things to talk about, starting with the fact that we just took a nap... together... on a narrow couch. Not that I'm uncomfortable, mind you. Actually, I really can't remember when I've been more content.

"We need to talk about..." I see him pause and take a deep breath. "Maybe the best way to do this is to admit that I lied to you earlier."

"When? About what?!" My heart stops in my chest. He lied. This doesn't sound good. Talks that start out with a confession of lies are never good.

"Earlier. I lied earlier." I see him bite his lip, but his hand is still on my upper arm.

"Okay..."

"Earlier, when you made us say what we were most thankful for... I said Republicans. Well, I lied. The thing I'm most thankful for isn't Republicans."

"There's a shocker, Josh." I smirk at him, but my smirk only last for a couple of seconds because I see Josh take a deep breath and his face go deadly serious.

He stares intensely at me across the mere six inches or so that separate our faces. And I feel like I might melt under his gaze. He continues to slowly rub soothing circles on my upper arm as his eyes drill into mine. "The truth is, Donnatella Moss, that the thing I am most thankful for... the thing I thank God for today and everyday ... is you."

"Josh..." It comes out barely above a whisper and I feel tears begin to well behind my eyes, at the same time my heart starts to do cartwheels on its own. It leaves me feeling a bit dizzy.

  
"So thank you, Donna,"

"For what?" Why did I just say that? My only excuse is that I'm dizzy.

He smiles at me. "For... for just being you..." He leans up and kisses the area right below my hairline. His lips are warm and soft and just about the best thing that's ever happened to my forehead. I close my eyes and I feel his hand come up and cup the exposed side of my face. When he lightly clears his throat, I open my eyes again. Even though he's only inches from me, he's still a bit blurry. But I'm pretty sure that's because of all the tears in my eyes. "...and thank you for challenging me and driving me a little crazier everyday and putting up with me and for making me a better person... and for basically just being the best part of my life."

The words are barely all the way out of his mouth when I launch myself at him, which is hard to do, since we're lying down and I'm only inches away to begin with. Nonetheless, I launch and somehow wrap my arms around his neck. He immediately pulls me into a bear hug and squeezes me tightly to him. My cheek is pressed flush against his, and the warmth and the intimacy of the moment become almost overpowering. I can feel that my cheeks are wet with tears. We stay like that, not speaking, just hugging for several minutes. Finally, with one final squeeze, I let go and move back slightly so I can once again see his face.

"Josh..." I whisper as I reach up and wipe my tears off of his cheek with the sleeve of my sweat suit and then let my fingers linger on his skin. I trace his jaw with my knuckles and am more than a little awed by the fact that I'm able to just touch him. You have no idea how many times I've just wanted to reach out and touch him. Taking a deep breath, I look him in the eye. "I'm so very thankful for you, too."

"Really?" He whispers hopefully.

"Really..." I nod. Oh my, clearly I'm going to cry again. But before I can have a chance to work up any real tears, Josh leans in and his lips are just a touch away from mine by the time I realize what's happening. My heart jumps into my throat. He's going to kiss me! Our first kiss. Right here in his living room on his couch, in front of God and-

"Wait!" All of a sudden it hits me. We had guests. Toby, CJ, Sam. What happened to them? Did they see us like this? "Where is everyone?"

Josh sighs and lets his head crash back down onto the couch pillow. I think he might be disappointed that we didn't have our first kiss. I'm disappointed, too! But you can see where I'm coming from, can't you? There were people with us when I fell asleep. People I can't make out with Josh in front of, not that I want to make out with Josh in front of anyone. I'm not a huge fan of PDAs.

"They left awhile ago... after you conked out."

"Oh my..." The mortification washes over me and I bury my head into his shoulder. "I'm the worst hostess ever."

"What are you talking about?"

"I fell asleep while I still had guests. Martha Stewart would definitely not approve."

"Well, thankfully, Martha Stewart's approval or disapproval is not something I think you or anyone else needs to worry about at the moment. Isn't making everyone comfortable the hallmark of a good hostess?" I shrug noncommittally, my face still in his sweater, but that doesn't sound wrong. "Well, everyone was very comfortable... especially with you snoring on the couch."

"I did not snore!" I look back up at him.

"A little." His grin is very big now. Way too big.

"I want to die." I hide my face against this chest this time.

"Donna." I feel him rubbing my back, which, by the way, is pleasurable. "Everyone had a great day. You... you made everyone feel welcome and at home. Especially me." He reaches down and lifts my chin so I'm forced to look into his grinning face.

"This is your home."

"Doesn't change the fact that you were incredible today. You gave four people who were going to have a really crappy holiday, an incredibly great one."

I feel myself blush. But I'm just so pleased at his words and I'm so happy that everyone had a good day, because I had a not-so-bad-day myself.

"Besides, you weren't alone, Sam passed out, too. CJ had to half-carry him to her car."

"I didn't get to say goodbye to Sam!" I plant one hand in his chest and push my torso up. How could Sam have left without saying goodbye?

Josh reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear while answering reassuringly, "The earliest flight he's got a shot at standing by for isn't until tomorrow afternoon. He's gonna call and take us to breakfast in the morning."

"Us?" I ask with surprise

"Yes, to thank us for Thanksgiving. Well, mostly to thank you for Thanksgiving... I'll just be tagging along."

"What about work?"

"We were both supposed to have the day off, so we'll check in with Leo and see if we're needed. I know the weather hasn't let up much so we may have to go in for awhile, but other than that..."

"No, Josh..." I look at him with a raised eyebrow. "I mean what about work?"

"Oh..." I see him grimace slightly. "You mean?"

"Yeah... I'm pretty sure I accidentally gave CJ the idea that there was something going on between us this afternoon."

"You did?" He feigns shock and then relents with a rueful smile. "So did I... Toby, too."

"So we're going to have to deal with it."

"I already have."

"What?" My eyes pop all the way open and I sound as surprised as I feel.

"Donna, I hope you won't think this is presumptuous, but I've been thinking about this lately... or rather I've been thinking about you... a lot... lately." I feel myself blush again. "Two weeks ago I had a conversation with Leo... about you."

"About me? What about me?"

"Ken Gibson is leaving in December."

I crinkle my brow. "So?"

"So, we're going to promote from within, which will leave a hole in the Legislative Liaison office. Are you interested?"

"Am I interested in what?" I ask with a fair amount of confusion. I barely know Ken Gibson.

"Are you interested in the job? In moving to the Legislative Liaison's office over at OEOB?"

"Are you kidding me? Of course I'm interested-" I answer excitedly, until it hits me. Suddenly, I'm shaking my head in horror. No way, I can't do this. "I don't want a promotion that I didn't earn..."

He silences me almost immediately, and the look he gives me would have me shaking in my boots if I didn't know him so well. "You don't believe that. I know you don't."

"But-

"Donna Moss, this would be a promotion that you are overqualified for. And Leo agrees with me on that point. You have more experience liaising with Congress than any three staffers combined over there. And I hope you'll consider it seriously. Because you'd be great at it. Because it's a good move for you and because we can't work together anymore."

"We can't?" I feel panic start to rise and threaten to drown me.

"No, we can't." His voice is resolute. "Regardless of what happens with this." He motions between us and then rests his hand on my arm tenderly. "I can't have an assistant that I feel this way about. It's not... it's not appropriate."

"What way about?" I feel a sly grin spread across my face.

"Huh?"

"Tell me more about these inappropriate feelings you have," I prod teasingly. "You can't have an assistant that you feel what way about?"

I see his face go from serious to suggestive in a second flat. "This way..." He leans forward and before I know what's happening, we're kissing. Our first kiss. And it's a very good first kiss. His lips are warm on mine and the second we touch I feel the wonderful flutter of butterflies flit clear across my stomach. The kisses begin soft and slow, but quickly escalate and become more passionate. I feel him shift and change the angle as his mouth opens and the movement of our lips and tongues becomes more intense. His hand caresses the back of my neck and pulls me closer to him and I moan as I feel his body rock against mine.

I can safely say I've never had a first kiss after waking up in a man's arms before. Some may say it's the backward way to do things. I say it's our way.

When we finally break apart, I sigh contentedly. After I finish panting. I change my mind; it wasn't a very good first kiss, it was a truly excellent first kiss. I open my eyes to find him looking very happy and also looking very pleased with himself.

I poke him in the ribs playfully and eye him slyly. "That was certainly a show, not tell, answer to my question. Don't you think you were a little cocky answering a question with a kiss?"

"Well, the way your hand had found its way under my sweater helped my confidence greatly." He smirks. I look down and my hand is indeed under his sweater. That's bare skin my hand is caressing under there.

"Oh." I smile widely up at him and find him looking down at me the same way. I twist my expression into one of mischief and run my hand further up his chest, still under his sweater. "So what does this give you the confidence to do?"

Twenty minutes later, he pulls back and breaks our second kiss. "Where are you going?" It was a really good second kiss, why on earth would he want to break it?

"I'm afraid... before we go any further, I have one more confession."

"Okay, what?" I ask as I try to catch my breath. This should be good. He's probably going to tell me that he knew he had china the whole time and uses it on a regular basis.

"I should have told you earlier today and I'm very sorry I didn't."

"What is it, Josh?" My hand is still up his sweater so I stroke his stomach slowly.

He hangs his head slightly. "I hate my mom's special green bean casserole."

I just stare at him with a blank expression. He what? "What are you talking about?"

"The casserole, I hate it. Always have."

"Are you kidding me?"

"No..." He shakes his head several times.

"But... but why did your mom tell me you loved it?" I thought she liked me! Was she trying to sabotage me!?

"Because she likes it and she thinks I like it... so I've just always pretended."

"But you didn't need to pretend with me! Why did you eat it? You had thirds! Why didn't you tell me?"

He puts his hand on my neck and leans in to press a quick, soft kiss to my lips. "Because *you* made it for me. Because calling my mom so that you could do something to honor some of my family's traditions was possibly one of the sweetest, most honestly thoughtful things anyone's ever done for me."

"Really?" He just nods and I swear there might be tears lurking behind his eyes. I know there are in mine... again. "You could have told me."

"I know. I was going to, but then I said the thing about Kermit and-"

"Enough said. Why are you telling me now?"

"Because I hope today is the first of many Thanksgivings together." My breath catches in my throat. Partly because of his sentiment and partly because I really do think this will be the first of many Thanksgivings that I spend with him. "And I want to start that out on the right, honest, non-special-green-bean-casserole-eating foot."

I turn my head and kiss the palm of his hand before turning back and meeting his eye with a twinkle. "But of course in the future, we'll invite your mother to spend Thanksgiving with us and I'll have to make the casserole for her and you'll still have to eat it... for her benefit, I'm afraid."

He pretends to think about it for several extended seconds and then grins. "I can do that. Actually, now that I think about it, the casserole has kind of grown on me today."

"Really?" He nods and I can't help myself. I lean in and once again we're kissing.

The weather might have ruined my plans to go home and be with my family, but despite that, I can unequivocally say that this has been the best Thanksgiving ever.

Because I am home. And I am with family.

However... how do you think Josh would react to the Moss's at Christmastime?


End file.
